


Your Soul, My Grace

by CasandHisBurntWings67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BDSM, Bondage, Bottom Dean, Crying Dean, Dubious Consent, Grace Kink, Grace-Powered Orgasms, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Restraints, Telepathic Bondage, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 10:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10554528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasandHisBurntWings67/pseuds/CasandHisBurntWings67
Summary: Give, give, give, and maybe they will stay. Maybe someone will stay, if he gave his everything.But they still left.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my lovelies. Working hard at Chapter 2 of the Sultry Seaman and this idea popped into my head. 
> 
> It's heart-wrenching for me to see Dean in so much pain and think himself so beneath everyone, and I just needed to see him comforted and given love, but there are very few ways he will accept that.
> 
> Not gonna lie, I cried writing this.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Dubious consent

Dean considered himself a man of simple pleasures. He would woo a person for all the two hours it would take for them to agree to come back to his motel room with him. Sammy, under the pain of irreversible images burnt into his retinas, stayed well away.

It was easy, pleasuring them. Well timed tongue licks, snap of hips or bounce of his ass, and easier still to let them go when they left the next morning, all sated smiles and no backward glances, and he was left, full of and covered in cum, and still feeling so empty.

It was easy, it was all he knew, he told himself repeatedly, when the looming dark shadowed his mind. It was easy to let them go. He only knew how to fuck. He couldn’t love. In these moments, Dean would argue with himself whether the hunter life made him unable to keep those he shared his bed with, or if he was just always broken.

Because they always left. Happy, and content, but they always left.

“I’m not like the others.” Castiel wrapped his arm around Dean, his trenchcoat whispering across his back. “I won’t ever leave.”

Dean didn’t look up from his hands, smearing the tear drops that had landed between his fingers. “Don’t promise shit you can’t keep, Cas. Just don’t. It fucking hurts.”

“Dean, I raised you from perdition, your soul bears my Grace, you are never alone, never left, as long as your soul bears that mark.”

Dean launched himself from the bed, throwing his arms in the air. “Just fuck off, Cas! Fuck off!”

Cas stared at Dean from under his eyebrows, jaw dangerously tight. “Dean, we know how this dance goes. You so desperately want love, but so desperately reject it. You could deep fry my wings in Holy Oil and I would still love you. I defied Heaven for you. I will follow your soul anywhere.”

“That’s fucked up, Cas.” Dean felt fresh tears fall down his face, he rubbed at them furiously. “That is so fucked up, you shouldn’t have, you should’ve have had to, for such a fucking pathetic and worthless piece of shit. You shouldn’t of–”

It was Cas’ turn to launch himself from the bed. He shoved himself into Dean’s personal space, their noses almost touching. “What makes you think that your opinion of why I fell matters? What gives you the right to question me about my feelings for you?”

A rush of air knocked the wind from Dean’s lungs as he was propelled into the air, dropped unceremoniously onto his back on the janked up bed springs. Dean swore loudly as his wrists and ankles were yanked spread-eagled and fixed there as if he was tied. He struggled, but they didn’t move an inch.

“It seems like you need to be taught a lesson, Dean. A lesson I know I may spend the rest of your life teaching you, but teach you the same I will because, as I said, I’m not going anywhere.” Castiel casually sunk into the lounge chair, facing the bed, eyes blazing blue.

“Lemme the fuck up, Cas!”

“No, Dean. I will not let you up until I believe I am satisfied you have learnt that you may question your brother, you may question your world or your reality, but you may never question me or my permanency in your life.”

Dean cried out as his shirt was torn in half by an invisible force. The force blazed through his jeans and his boxers, reducing them to rags before they were flung across the room.

“Castiel, I swear to fucking God–”

“No, Dean. You will swear to me, not my father.” Castiel shrugged off his trenchcoat, laying it folded neatly on the desk beside the lounge chair. “What is your safeword, Dean?”

“Fuck you.” Dean gasped as a cold force struck him across the face. His cock jumped.

“What is your safeword, Dean?”

“Cas, this is fucking–” Dean cried out as his face was struck the other way.

“I will not ask you again, Dean. I suggest you answer the question before I tire of your tantrum.”

Dean blinked away tears, the knowledge that those slaps were love taps for Cas making him squirm. He muttered his safeword, and shouted, his back arching as four rapid strikes landed on his ass. “Impala!” He yelled.

“Good boy.” Dean exhaled heavily, his cock rigid, smearing precome over his navel as he squirmed. Another smack landed on Dean’s ass, much harder this time, and his entire body tensed, strangled cries escaping his throat. Another landed, and another, and another, inhumanly steady and precisely landing over each cheek.  
“Cas!”

“You will address me as Sir, boy, or do I need to teach you more than one lesson today?”

A particularly hard smack, right over his hole, made Dean arch so hard, he wondered vaguely if his shoulder would give out. “No, sir.”

“Good boy.” Cas’ voice was soft, and his Grace warmed, soothing over Dean’s body in slow circles, spreading over his stomach, tweaking at his nipples. Dean moaned, his hips snapping up into air. The warm wisps trailed themselves down his stomach, raising goosebumps over his skin. Dean shook his head in frustration as they circled the base of his cock, but moved on, slipping between the creases of his crotch.

“The thing about angels, Dean, is that their Grace leaves marks when its touched a soul.” The Grace cupped his balls, rolling them languidly. Dean’s head dropped back in the pillow, moaning softly. “I have cradled your soul, Dean. Held it against myself, soothed its wounds, and stitched it back to your mangled body.” The Grace slipped further back, rubbing at his skin, teasing his opening.

“I did not just touch your soul, I remade it. The torn and frayed, brilliant beacon of light that, despite its scars, was still pure, still so beautiful.” Dean’s mouth dropped open as the Grace pushed, wetly sliding inside as if he had already been fucked. He tried to spread his legs wider, his knees struggling to rise.

“Cas, _sir _.”__ Dean whispered, fingers open, and reaching. The Grace slid deeper, stretching him slowly but steadily, opening him.

“I had never seen a soul so bright, not since Lucifer himself.”

Dean slammed his head forward and back as the Grace deliberately rubbed against his sweet spot, his legs trembling. Dean was keenly aware of the cold air sliding over his skin, heightening the pressure in his ass. Twin pinches began to pluck at his nipples, sending sharp spikes down his spine.

Dean’s knees were force to his chest and little ‘uh-uh-uhs’ spilled from his lips as the Grace sped up. Dean opened his mouth, trying to speak. Cas tilted his head, smiling gently, and Dean could almost feel his gaze on him. He tried to reach for Castiel, begging with his body for the angel to touch him properly, to press his body against his own, to encase him in his arms. Like this, spread out over the bed, he felt too exposed, wrung out and raw. “Cas, touch me.” Dean yelped as a smack struck his inner thighs. His body jerked, clenching around the Grace inside him, but it didn’t pause, fucking him like a machine.

“That’s it, Dean.” Castiel’s voice was breathless. “All you ever cared about was giving to others. Giving your body, giving your blood, giving your heart, believing that if you gave enough, someone would stay.”

Pleasure began to crest in Dean’s gut. He couldn’t stifle the long cries and sharp yelps tearing out of his throat, the Grace carving a place for itself inside him unrelenting and fucking him so hard his entire body shook.

“But you don’t have to give me anything to make me stay, Dean, because from the moment I saw your soul in the Pit, I fought the armies of Hell for it, thousands died so I could cradle it in my wings–” Hot, wet heat surrounded his dick, sloppily enveloping him, swirling around his head and stroking against his tip

“From the moment I touched you, I had already fallen.”

Dean threw his head back and roared, spilling over himself, cum flying up his chest, dripping from his chin, and the Grace fucked him through it. Fucked him as his body trembled through each wave of body rocking pleasure, only slowing down when Dean begged for it to stop, his body jerking with each thrust, oversensitive and utterly wrecked.

Slowly, it drew out, the Grace around his nipples trailing down his stomach to his crotch, before disappearing. The bindings on his wrists and ankles released him, and the hunter slumped onto the bed, bones jelly-like and rubbery.

Castiel stood from his chair and strode to the bed, pulling off his clothes carelessly. He pulled up the covers and crawled in beside Dean, laying the blanket over them. Dean shivered desperately, clawing over Castiel’s side. The angel soothed his hands down the hunter’s back, pressing gentle kisses to his forehead, jaw and cheek, and then curling his tongue over Dean’s bottom lip. Dean whimpered and pressed against him, wrapping his arm tightly around Castiel’s neck.

Castiel gently pulled away a few inches, hands still soothing over Dean. “Do you see, Dean?”

Dean scrunched his eyes tight, and buried his face into Castiel’s jaw.

“Dean, talk to me.”

"I–I can’t.” His voice broke, and his body began to tremble under his touch.

“It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay. Let it all out.” Castiel felt his own eyes burn but he forced them back, clinging to Dean tighter. “I will always be here for you.” Castiel pressed another kiss to Dean’s temple, his voice breaking. “And I will always love you."


End file.
